Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Paraguay and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing A Certain Ratio to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Heavy D & The Boyz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ajijia Myrayebe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bizarre Inc.,
Khruangbin,
ABBA,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bush Tetras,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Saints,
Negative Approach,
The Modern Lovers,
The Cure,
Rosa Yemen,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lalo Schifrin,
Dawn Penn,
Porter Ricks,
The Grass Roots,
The Skatalites,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
FM Einheit,
Monks,
New Age Steppers,
The Selecter,
Agent Orange,
Nick Fraelich,
The Walker Brothers,
Charles Mingus,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Absolute Body Control,
Flipper,
The Monochrome Set,
Gregory Isaacs,
Theoretical Girls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Moebius,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gabor Szabo,
Mandrill,
Neil Young,
Boredoms,
Rod Modell,
Alton Ellis,
Alice Coltrane,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Black Flag,
The United States of America,
Neu!,
Bob Dylan,
The Pretty Things,
Juan Atkins,
Main Source,
Robert Hood,
The Human League,
Los Fastidios,
Lakeside,
Joyce Sims,
Whodini,
Marcia Griffiths,
Henry Cow,
Zero Boys,
Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen, Minutemen.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.